


A Potential Alliance

by VirgilVirgilVirgil



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Feelings, M/M, Sex Things Happen, Sorry guys, but not it detail, extreme avoidance of the f word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 11:49:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15662646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VirgilVirgilVirgil/pseuds/VirgilVirgilVirgil
Summary: Thrawn finds an unexpected guest in his living room.





	A Potential Alliance

His last name slid through the man’s lips, first like a knife, a little too sharp, with each following syllable uttered a little bit wrong. Cygni had always felt completely neutral toward his name. It was utilitarian, it was necessary, it wasn’t optional. It just was. He’d never wasted much thought on it. But the complex, serpentine sound it took when passing through Thrawn’s lips was something special. Nobody else pronounced it like that -- in fact, he wasn’t sure anyone could pronounce it quite the same way. It seemed appropriate that he would find Thrawn’s manner of speaking both alluring and inherently a bit wrong.

“You must have been certain I was dead,” he didn’t bother hiding his smirk. The expression on Thrawn’s face was everything he could have hoped for: glowing eyes wide, eyebrows nearly creeping off the top of his long forehead. There couldn’t have been many people capable of making Thrawn wear that look of surprise, but he could and there was something delightful about it.

Thrawn must have realized he was going to encounter an intruder because he already had his hand on his blaster as the door slid open. He froze as soon as he saw Cygni, like he couldn’t quite trust reality because there was a ghost standing in his living room. Slowly, keeping his hand near his blaster, Thrawn stepped past his own doorway into the apartment. His caution wasn’t unwarranted; Cygni was armed as well.

It took months of digging through illegally obtained Imperial records to find that Thrawn actually had a personal residence aside from his cabin aboard his Star Destroyer. It was a modest apartment on Coruscant, with one bedroom and a joined dining and living area. Almost offensively simple for a high ranking military official who might usually be expected to entertain powerful, wealthy dignitaries. Judging by the complete mediocrity of the space, he imagined Thrawn didn’t play host to guests often. And judging by the fine layer of dust coating every otherwise neat surface, Thrawn didn’t even visit the space alone often.

The walls and shelves of the apartment were, naturally, covered in art. It was almost like the space served as a last-ditch storage area for anything Thrawn couldn’t fit aboard his Star Destroyer rather than a place for a person to live. He’d checked the food storage area earlier — it was empty. The apartment was exactly what he imagined Thrawn’s home might be like: cold, barren, and packed full of art.

Cygni had considered sitting on one of the cushioned chairs prior to Thrawn’s arrival, but it was enough of an invasion to already have broken into the man’s home and snooped through his lack of food supply. He could at least show enough courtesy to avoid sitting until he was invited. So he stood, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

Thrawn came to a halt next to one of the seats. There was something unique about the way he moved. When he stood, he was tall and proud. When he was still, he was like a monolith. Everything -- standing, stopping, walking -- was a full commitment, done with precision and perfection.

“I am surprised to see you’re alive. Though in retrospect, I should have considered it plausible that you would be capable of such a feat.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing to you?”

“Good,” he answered more quickly than Cygni expected, as though it wasn’t even a matter of debate. “They found your corpse on Batonn. It was identified by dental records.”

“You people trust your own intel too much.”

“Our records of you must have been inaccurate?”

“Do you really think I’d let the Empire hang onto any viable information about me?”

“Of course not.” His focus hadn’t strayed from Cygni since he entered the apartment. “I am quite pleased to see your life was not lost.”

“It nearly was.” It had been over a year since the Batonn incident. Thrawn, as evidenced by his crisp white uniform, had fared well. From what he’d heard the man was now in command of an entire fleet and spent a good deal of his time dealing with missions on the Outer Rim. For Cygni, the time since Batonn was a sour subject. He’d spent months in recovery following the disaster. “I got lucky. There were many, many people on Batonn who did not.”

“Yes.” Thrawn blinked at him but said no more. He was like this in every one of their prior encounters: difficult to read, and guarded with his words.

And that, Cygni couldn’t stand. Was it a dismissal of what happened? Of all the innocent lives that had been lost? If it wasn’t, why couldn’t he come out and say it? What shame was there in admitting the whole affair had been nothing short of a travesty?

“You _must_ have more to say,” his tone landed somewhere between a growl and a plead. He couldn’t decide which one was more suited to the situation.

Thrawn inhaled deeply, taking his time finding the right words. “The events of Batonn were far from what either of us desired. It was unfortunate. You are here, I presume, to carry out what you see as justice by killing me?”

“No.” It was his turn to give a worthless, one-word answer. _Unfortunate?_ Was that really the best thing he could think to say?

Thrawn waited patiently for him to elaborate, his eyes locked intently on Cygni. Another thing he’d spent months trying to find information on: the Chiss. He suspected Thrawn’s species might have an advanced ability to read microexpressions, a sort of living lie detector. Unfortunately, his search hadn’t yielded anything other than a few sparsely documented folktales from planets deep in Wild Space. He was left hoping his hunch was right and Thrawn could read the truth in his statement, but given Cygni’s mixed emotions it was probably extremely difficult to tell even if he could read microexpressions.

“I’m intrigued,” Thrawn said slowly. “What, then, is the purpose of your presence here?”

“We haven’t seen each other in awhile,” he said dryly. “Thought it might be nice to catch up.”

If Thrawn found any humor in the statement, he didn’t show it.

Cygni removed the blaster from his holster and gently tossed it onto the chair at Thrawn’s side. “That better?”

Thrawn looked from the weapon to him.

He put his hands up, “It’s the only one I have on me. You’re welcome to search me if you don’t believe me.”

“That won’t be necessary,” he moved the weapon to a side table and carefully positioned it so the barrel was turned from either of them. Slouching back into the chair, he motioned for Cygni to sit as well. It was one of the most surprising features of the unremarkable home — not that it had a chair, but that it had _two_ of them. He couldn’t imagine they had ever both been used at the same time.

“I want to know what happened.” Cygni kept his eyes on the alien, trying to formulate the right words to express exactly why he needed to know. It’d been eating at him ever since that day: Thrawn _promised_ he would avoid unnecessary casualties, and then he broke his promise in the worst possible way. Any way Cygni thought to say it, it sounded ridiculous. Childish. It was naive of him at best, utterly foolish at worst.

“You gave me your word. And unlike with your peers, I think your word actually means something. Or at least I thought it did.”

Thrawn fell silent for some time, his eyes finally turning away. His jaw tensed and his lips formed a sharp frown. Cygni had never seen him emote so clearly before: he was upset.

Or actually, Thrawn had looked like this one time before. When Cygni turned down his offer to join the Chiss, Thrawn’s impassive expression had fallen so quickly, so unexpectedly, it took him a while to recognize it. It’d given him pause at the time, simply because anything that could make Thrawn visibly upset must have been important to him. It wasn’t that Cygni was the only person who could help his people -- they were probably fine, for the most part, on their own. And Thrawn probably had access to plenty of other talented people he could send to them, even if none of them were as adept as Cygni. The precise thing that Thrawn had been upset about, he realized as he stood in the field on Batonn trying to decipher the unexpected expression, wasn’t that Cygni refused to go to the Chiss, but that he was going to die for that decision. It wasn’t that going to the Chiss was important, it was that Cygni himself was, for some reason, important to Thrawn.

Was there any higher compliment than having someone like Thrawn think you were important?

“There was a rogue agent on the ground,” Thrawn said softly. “I was ultimately in command, so I do bear responsibility for the tragedy, but I would never have sanctioned such an action regardless of our agreement. It was unnecessary. Wasteful.”

“Who was it?”

Thrawn’s eyes returned to him, “You’ve never behaved in a vengeful manner before. Why is this particular piece of information vital to you?”

“Who said I wanted vengeance? I’m just asking for a name.”

“Your tone indicates…”

“Do you blame me?” He gritted his teeth to keep from snapping. “Can you blame me for thinking this person might present a significant threat after they slaughtered so many people?”

“I assure you, they will not make another such transgression.”

“Why is it the only people you have any faith in are these morally bankrupt Imperial bastards?”

“That is untrue, Cygni,” he said far too patiently. “I have very little faith in this individual. There will be no repeat offense because they are now under my close scrutiny, and they are well aware of my… aversion to mistakes. As of this moment, the individual is quite useful to me, so I must refrain from giving you their name.”

He frowned. “Well, when this resource ceases to be useful to you will you at least give me what I want?”

Thrawn nodded, “That is a reasonable request.”

The copious amount of old artwork in the apartment was evidence enough: resources _never_ expired in usefulness to Thrawn. Cygni would never get a name. He’d have to go another route. That was fine, he had other sources he could get information through, and he had bigger issues to address with Thrawn. Much bigger.

He turned his attention to one of the art pieces hanging on the wall, a fire and brimstone hellscape that was entirely unsuited to hang in the living room of any normal home. “What would you do if you were in my situation? If Creekpath had been on your homeworld, if it had been filled with Chiss?”

Thrawn didn’t answer; he didn’t need to. They both knew how the scenario would end.

“This is what I don’t understand about you,” Cygni said. “I can’t fault you for prioritizing your own countrymen. I think that’s natural of anyone. But clearly… If you’ve done all this for them you are capable of caring about people. Are they the only ones you care about? What is it that makes all of us expendable for the good of your own kind? Surely there are more people in the Empire than there are in Chiss space?”

Thrawn, once more, didn’t reply.

“That’s what I thought… Like I said, I don’t blame you for prioritizing them, but it is… difficult to stomach. And it seems counter to your entire belief system that you do what’s best for the greater good.”

“Would you not do the same?”

“No. No, I would never annihilate entire populations in order to protect a smaller population of people, particularly not out of fear of some vague evil.”

Thrawn’s eyebrows pinched together, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Do you actually believe I would commit such an act based on unfounded information? Perhaps my stance is one you simply cannot understand because you have no people of your own.”

The comment cut. “That’s an unfair claim to make. I have people. They were on Batonn and the Thrugii asteroid belt. They’re scattered across the entire galaxy in Mining Guild operations and insurgent groups. The only truth in your statement is that I really can’t fathom defending one tiny portion of the galaxy above all else, but that’s not due to a lack of belonging. It’s because the people I care about most are everywhere.”

Thrawn looked at him, pressing his fingertips together analytically. “Is it any less fair than your claim that I would take such extreme measures on unsubstantiated intelligence?”

He ground his teeth. It might have been wrong to assert Thrawn would do anything without gaining a thorough understanding of the subject first. With a sigh, he let his attention return to the misplaced violent painting. He stood from his seat and walked to it. Maybe it actually wasn’t inappropriate for the room. Maybe Thrawn had placed it deliberately, as a constant reminder of what was at stake whenever he had a few moments away from being his uniform.

Cygni had tried his best to keep reminders of his fight against the Empire out of his personal life, to keep his involvement with insurgent groups minimal and strictly professional. He’d desperately wanted to leave it all so many times and find something simple and easy and _normal_ , but the reminders always found a way to sneak into every aspect of his life, to snag his curiosity and drag him back into the fight. And now he carried a reminder everywhere, so he literally couldn’t escape them.

“After our discussion on Batonn, I went back to the compound to help the insurgents prepare. And to give them your message, your offer for clemency.”

“I assumed as much.”

“When the explosives detonated, I was inside the compound. Part of the structure collapsed and I was trapped under burning debris. A support beam fell at just the right angle to keep me from being completely crushed, so instead of dying right away I was left to contemplate my death before everything either collapsed in and finally crushed me, or before I burned alive. It’s telling, what goes through your mind when you’re about to die. I kept thinking about what you told me of your mission with the Chiss, that you’re either here to help strengthen the Empire’s rule or to plunge us into chaos. Both of those options terrify me. Whatever path you choose, your sole purpose is to destroy everything I care about. I had so many chances to get rid of you over the years, I’d even planned one attempt pretty well and failed… and the only thing I could think while I was lying there was that even if I could go back in time knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t change anything.”

He paused watching Thrawn’s expressionless face for any sort of reaction. “I’m still struggling with that thought. I hate that I think it. But my stance remains the same. I wouldn’t do anything differently.”

“There were occasions that you were able to effectively utilize my efforts to your favor. The Cyphar spice operation, for instance.”

He laughed because it seemed natural Thrawn would assume that was what he meant. “No, that has nothing to do with it. You have always been much more to me than just a useful resource.”

Behind his steepled fingers, Thrawn blinked a few times, quicker than normal.

“I wouldn’t change anything because ultimately, even if we have very different methods, I think we want the same thing. And I think the only reason you’ve stuck with the Empire this long is because you do care about the people here and you desperately don’t want to pursue your alternative path. The galaxy is a better place with you in it, you’re just on the wrong side at the moment.” He shrugged, “But maybe that’s how I’m attempting to rationalize my thoughts so I can avoid admitting to myself I also wouldn’t change anything because having you around is fun, as grossly inappropriate as the word is.”

He wanted to tear his eyes away from Thrawn because the whole admission was uncomfortable, but curiosity got the best of him once more. He needed to see if it elicited any reaction.

Thrawn shifted in his seat. He dropped his hands and looked away from Cygni, toward the artwork. He was trying to distract himself. Maybe the whole thing just didn’t compute for him -- that anyone might be more than a resource. Maybe he couldn’t understand why Cygni might have an opinion so completely detached from any form or logic or reason. Admittedly, Cygni didn’t really understand it either. But the notion remained true to him: he liked having Thrawn around, regardless of the threat he presented.

He touched the side of his neck in the same place Cygni was scarred, “This must be from Batonn?”

Cygni ran his fingers over the damaged skin that crept over halfway up his neck. Its obvious placement should have bothered him more than it did, but it seemed like such a useless thing to be concerned with. He was alive. So what if half his body had been left scarred?

“Yes, it is,” he said.

“How long were you hospitalized?”

“Months. The burn wasn’t the difficult part, really.” He pulled off his right glove and showed the palm of the cybernetic hand he was still getting used to, waving the fingers. Given his status as a threat to the Empire, seeking medical aid at a full hospital wasn’t an option. The insurgents who found him were smart enough to take him off Batonn immediately, to another operation on a nearby planet. Their medical outfit saw to his injuries and equipped him with the arm. But the cybernetics they had access to were built for utility, not looks, so they outfitted him with a model without synthskin. The exposed metal was still clean and unmarred because he’d avoided using it for much. Fine wires ran up each of the fingers like tendons, past bolted joints and sensory pads made to fool him into thinking every touch might be the real thing. The limb was a medical and mechanical marvel, and it was utterly worthless.

“The arm is…” He trailed off, unsure of any logical thing he could say. He was alive and had two arms. Even if one wasn’t real, it should have been enough for him to be content. “I’m still trying to get used to it.”

Thrawn watched the hand closely as Cygni clenched the cybernetic fingers. They made a light, whirring mechanical noise as he did; yet another reminder that the limb wasn’t quite real.

“Is it full or partial?”

“Full arm,” he said. “Up to my shoulder.”

He rose from his seat and stepped to Cygni a little too fast, looking at the limb curiously. “May I?”

He held the artificial palm open, facing upward, and Thrawn began inspecting it. He ran his fingers over the sensors and mechanisms of the palm and pushed lightly against each of the digits to observe how they responded. Like it was a tool to be analyzed and tested rather than a body part. He’d always thought of his hands as tools, and he supposed the new one was as well. It was just vastly inferior.

“I have not had many opportunities to examine Imperial prosthetics.” Thrawn turned the hand over gently and touched the smooth metal covering the backside. “It provides sensory feedback, I assume?”

“It does where there are sensors. Not on the back, just the palm and fingertips.”

His eyebrows pinched together thoughtfully and he turned the hand once more, this time watching the movement of the wrist component. His thumb glided over the palm sensor, and Cygni wondered what the contact might feel like if it were his real hand. The sensor feedback was simple; it told him there was pressure and nothing more. But Thrawn’s fingers were long and moved with a graceful precision, and, unlike Cygni’s hand, looked uncalloused. They were probably smooth and pleasant. And they would be cold, undoubtedly, because nothing about Thrawn seemed warm.

“Chiss prosthetics are of much higher quality. Even the inexpensive ones.”

Cygni snorted, “Is this what you’re going to do? Make your crazy offer again? Try to bribe me with a fake arm?”

He his gaze met Cygni’s with far more seriousness than the situation warranted. “It would be wise of you to reconsider my offer.”

“I already turned you down once. That’s not going to change. Is this what you’re doing? Sending the people you like off to the Chiss? Is that where Vanto is?”

Thrawn raised an eyebrow, “I should not be surprised you know of Vanto’s disappearance. You are correct. I had hoped to send you with him.”

“I doubt he would have wanted to be stuck on a ship with me for the entire trip.”

“Eli respected you. It would have been fine.”

“Did he? I was under the impression that was something he entirely reserved for you,” he remarked dryly.

Thrawn frowned, probably irritated with Cygni’s attempt to distract from the subject. He could feel the pressure of his thumb pressing into the palm sensor, a squeeze to keep his attention focused. “Our prior conversation was far too brief for a matter so serious. I had been considering your usefulness to my people for some time, but only when I realized how dire your situation was did the possibility become one I knew I needed to pursue immediately. That is my own fault. I should have found a way to approach you with an offer sooner. Given enough time to fully discuss and consider what I know and how it will come to impact even the people in this area of the galaxy, I believe you may reconsider your refusal.” His eyes probed Cygni’s face, his tone changing to something almost hopeful, curious. “Perhaps now we can have this conversation as I once hoped it could be.”

Something about the expression gave him pause. It felt… sincere. Nearly emotional. The dull pressure of his Thrawn’s thumb had released just a little, and he ran it over the near useless palm sensor like a gentle plea.

He responded with equal sincerity, “I spent a decade tracking you around the galaxy trying to figure out why you’d serve the Empire. I’m _still_ trying to figure it out. If you think I won’t listen, you severely underestimate my dedication to solving the mystery of you.”

Again, Thrawn fell into one of his contemplative silences, his attention entirely focused on Cygni’s face. The gaze was so intense he must have been reading something more than what a human could see. Cygni kept his expression even, confident, but couldn’t help the feeling that trying to hide anything was completely useless.

The ghost of a smile that flitted across his lips told Cygni his feeling was likely correct.

“Are these superficial?” Thrawn ran his middle and index finger slowly across the mark on Cygni’s cheek. His skin prickled beneath the touch -- he _was_ cold. It was like having an ice cube slid across his skin.

It seemed like a sudden tangent to the conversation, but maybe curiosity was getting the best of him. He suspected curiosity was their shared weakness, though Thrawn would likely vehemently deny it was a weakness. He was used to questions about the marks so it didn’t come as much of a surprise, but most people didn’t feel compelled to touch them as well.

There was a chance, of course, that Thrawn had read _everything_ from his face. Maybe he’d seen more than Cygni would have liked him to. Maybe this was a ploy to use all those extra little things against him. If that was the case… Cygni wasn’t really sure how much he cared.

“They’re permanent.”

Thrawn withdrew his fingers, rubbing his thumb over them as if to see if there was any residue. “What is their significance?”

“They’re from one of my homes when I was young.”

“The information I was able to find of your youth spoke of a childhood with very little stability. A somewhat transient lifestyle, if you will.”

He nodded, “That’s true, at least of the later years. I spent about the first half of my early childhood on a small sun-heavy planet where most lower class people had these. They’re meant to help with vision during outdoor work.”

“Interesting. And they were permanently marked on your face from a young age because it was assumed you would remain in that social class for your entire life?”

“Nothing else was really considered an option,” he said flatly.

Thrawn nodded, “I see. That explains a great deal about your philosophy.”

“I’m sure it does.” He shouldn’t have said anything. His childhood was really none of Thrawn’s business. He motioned to Thrawn’s face, “What about you? Those things under your eyes? Are they artificial, or are they just part of your face?”

A humorous smile twitched at his lips, “They are simply part of my face.” He touched the spot on Cygni’s face again, this time gently running the cool pad of his thumb across it. “I put a great deal of research into figuring out what these were, or where they were from, but my research never yielded any concrete answers.”

He squinted, trying to keep focused through the distracting coolness of Thrawn’s touch. He wanted so badly to turn his face, to press this lips into his palm and feel fully, directly, how cool his touch was. But he didn’t.

“Just how much research did you do on me?”

“You piqued my curiosity. I have always been curious to know as much as possible about you. Perhaps that curiosity was more mutual than I realized.” A sly smile had fully worked its way onto his face. Thrawn’s hand slid back, long fingers weaving into the hair on the back of his neck, and he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the spot. They were cold and soft but his breath was warm, making a complex, intriguing sensation against his skin. Thrawn’s brief delay before his next move had to have been purposeful -- just long enough for Cygni’s breath to catch, just long enough for him to realize what was happening, but not long enough for him to react. His lips parted and his tongue licked across the mark. He drew back, enough to peer once more at Cygni’s like he was trying to catch every minute expression that might cross his face.

For a moment, the breath froze in his throat.

“Do people… do that where you’re from?”

Thrawn looked at him with his usual unreadable expression. “No.”

He didn’t have the damnedest clue how to respond. Maybe Thrawn’s mannerisms weren’t strange because he was foreign. Maybe they were just strange because Thrawn was strange.

“Have I overstepped?”

“No.” No no no. Ten kriffing years… he’d come to terms with the fact that he was attracted to his counterpart ages ago. How could he not find a mind like that attractive? But Thrawn’s somewhat… sterile mannerisms had left him certain the sentiment wasn’t mutual. Maybe, he reminded himself, it wasn’t. But he could live with fake-mutual to get a little relief.

His hand dropped lower on Cygni’s neck, index finger trailing gently against the skin right above the scarring. His other fingers, Cygni was sure, were moving as well.  He was testing the sensitivity of his scarred skin.

“I can’t feel that.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Can you feel anything?”

“If there’s enough pressure, yes.”

Thrawn blinked, processing the information, then moved his hand and replaced it with his lips. Again, that tongue…

“Ah… yep.” His chest constricted, then released with a sigh, “I can feel that.”

“Is it good?”

“You’re just asking for a compli…” The sentence trailed off incoherently as Thrawn’s mouth moved up, to the unscarred skin near the crook of his jaw.

Thrawn didn’t bother saying anything but huffed a breath against his neck that must have been a laugh. Cygni worked his fingers into the neat blue-black hair on the back of Thrawn’s head, making a point to mess it up a little. It was thick but silky and peppered with grey streaks along the sides that weren’t there the first time they met. He hooked the cybernetic fingers into Thrawn’s uniform belt and tugged him closer, because if Thrawn’s intent was to manipulate a reaction out of him, then he wanted to feel every bit of it.

“Cygni…” His name was drawn out, teasing. He emphasized each of the next words, as though he needed to make sure his question was understood this time: “Is it good?”

“You already know it’s good.”

Thrawn’s mouth moved again, this time so his nose was buried into his facial hair. His fingers wove into the hair on the other side of his jaw. For a moment, he paused. He sighed a short, heavy breath against the side of his face.

“Perhaps our conversation can wait?” He murmured.

“Yes.” He turned his head enough to meet Thrawn’s lips with his own, “It can wait.”

  
  
  
**

 

 

Thrawn’s post-climax behavior was even more unexpected than the two chairs in the living room. He fell into what he could only describe as a stupor -- Thrawn, of all people, in a stupor -- barely able to hold himself up as he gently kissed and licked along Cygni’s jawline, muttering incoherently in a language that didn’t sound like anything Cygni had ever heard. His behavior was very, very nearly affectionate.

And then he’d just sort of given up, collapsing onto his side, half laying on Cygni so he was trapped on his back, pinned to the bed by his longtime adversary. His eyes were closed, the red marks that were part of his face like smiles beneath his lashes. Cygni wanted so badly to touch them, to run his thumb over one, but his arm was trapped beneath Thrawn.

He wondered if the rapid onset lethargy was a Chiss thing or just a Thrawn thing. He hoped it was unique to Thrawn because it was a little comical. And it was comfortable. It felt right. He wasn’t tired enough to sleep, but he adjusted a little and pressed his lips against Thrawn’s bare shoulder and closed his eyes, letting himself revel in the details. The skin under his lips was cool, and Cygni’s warm breath formed little drops of condensation on it. Each of Thrawn’s deep, even breaths sent Cygni’s hair tickling against the side of his face. He found himself trying to sync their breathing, for whatever reason.

It didn’t last long at all, or at least it didn’t feel like it did. The shoulder beneath his lips shifted and pulled away, and Thrawn rose from the bed and made his way to the refresher. The light flicked on and water ran for a few moments, then he returned to the room, neatening his hair like he was preparing for an important meeting.

Cygni took it as a signal that the fun was over and sat upright. “Is it time for our conversation?”

“Yes, I believe it is.”

He expected Thrawn to dress, as though he needed to be in full uniform for his presentation, but he didn’t. He remained entirely nude with neatened hair, seated across from Cygni on the bed as he launched into his lengthy pitch. He listened carefully, asking questions as he needed to, and Thrawn was patient and thorough when it came to explaining everything. His eyes looked almost a little bleary as he spoke, his lids heavy and slow with each blink. Drowsiness tugged at Cygni as well. He wasn’t sure of the time, but it had to have been either incredibly late or incredibly early.

It occurred to him at some point in their conversation that intergalactic wars and invaders hell-bent on committing genocide on planetary levels were far from the typical pillow talk. But both he and Thrawn were probably pretty far from typical.

“So,” Thrawn concluded their post-sex business meeting, “Will you reconsider my offer?”

Cygni looked at him for what was probably too long. It all made much more sense with some context. Had he been in Thrawn’s position… well, he would have behaved entirely differently, but at least now he could understand why Thrawn made the decisions he had.

He sighed and leaned toward Thrawn, weaving his fingers into his thick, dark hair and messing it up again.

“No.”

His face dropped, just as it had the first time he refused. It was nothing dramatic, not like you’d expect from a normal person, just a slight downturn of his mouth, a squint, a straightening of his spine so he drew back from Cygni. Mildly indignant confusion.

Cygni looked over Thrawn’s bare body. He’d taken a great amount of pleasure in getting that damn uniform off him as quickly as possible. Regardless of Thrawn’s true intent with luring him into this situation, the whole experience had been satisfying. Whether or not Thrawn would admit it, Cygni could tell he’d enjoyed it as well.

Thrawn huffed and pressed his fingertips to Cygni’s chest, pushing him back against the headboard. Straddling Cygni’s legs, he began to kiss again, working his way from his mouth to his neck to his chest, “So you are not here to accept my offer for a place among the Chiss,” He nipped at the skin over his ribcage, making Cygni squirm. “Nor do I believe you are here to only discuss Batonn. You’ve never been foolish enough to reveal yourself to me without a way of escaping capture, so you must have something to offer which would encourage me to compromise my duty to turn you over to the Empire.”

He couldn’t hide his laugh, “Are you implying that’s what this is?”

A glowing eye peered up at him. “The possibility has occurred to me.”

“To be honest with you, sleeping my way out of the situation would never have occurred to me. Would it have worked?”

Thrawn merely offered a small shrug, moving upright so they were eye level. “What is your actual purpose for being here?”

And now, finally, it was Cygni’s turn. “Last time we met, we spoke of an Imperial project that had us both concerned. My informant went dark on me. I’m not sure if they’re dead or silenced, but information has been hard for me to come by. I’ve managed to learn a little… enough to scare me even more. I imagine you have access to more information given your new rank.” He paused, watching Thrawn closely for his reaction, “And from what I hear, this project is starting to cause problems for you.”

Thrawn’s impassive expression quickly changed to a frown. He moved off Cygni’s legs, sitting away from him. “How much do you know?”

“How much do _you_ know?”

“You are not in a strategically advantageous position, Cygni. You have no leverage to demand information. So I ask again, _how much do you know?_ Both about this project, and my own.” His reaction to the question was harsher than expected; something about the subject had him on edge.

“Your project has been difficult to find information on as well, but from what I gather it’s some sort of advanced starfighter. The other project… I know my original suspicions were correct, it’s one structure. Massive. And weaponized. Capable of a destruction on a very large scale. The Empire is doing everything in their power to keep it under wraps. And the people who do know about it are terrified to talk, which makes me think we have something extremely powerful and extremely deadly on our hands. You’re on Coruscant now because you’re competing with this project for funding. If I know anything about the Empire, it’s that they like things big, wasteful, and destructive. This fight for funding isn’t going to end in your favor unless something goes terribly wrong with the other project.”

His eyes narrowed, “And your assessment of both these projects leads you to believe the other is the superior threat to your goals?”

Anything you think is a good idea is probably bad for me, but anything we both think is a terrible idea is extremely bad for everyone. Your project is likely a bigger threat to insurgent groups, but this mystery project presents a bigger threat to people in general.”

Thrawn didn’t speak. His eyes were locked on Cygni but not really focused on him. Something about this was weighing heavily on his mind.

“You can’t convince me you don’t know more about this other project, and that you aren’t worried about it,” Cygni said softly. “You’re just too close to the epicenter of this mess to do anything about it. You’re being watched too closely.”

“Your proposal is that I feed you confidential information so you can destroy this project?”

“I’ll take care of the dirty work and in the end, you get your starfighter and we both get peace of mind.”

Thrawn glanced to him, “And then what?”

“And then we go back to the way we’ve always been. I’m not going to abandon the fight against the Empire, even if you’ll probably crush me with your new starfighters. But this project has to be stopped, and the sooner it happens the better for everyone. The fastest way to stop it is with your help. You know if we worked together this project wouldn’t stand a chance at surviving.”

Thrawn was silent, lost in thought.

Cygni sighed, “Do you really have to think about this? This thing is objectively _bad_. You’re not a monster, not like the rest of them. Quit thinking about the Empire and try to do what’s right for once…”

“Any move I make in regard to this project runs a very high risk.” Thrawn’s voice remained mild, contemplative. “My disapproval of it is well known. That, coupled with the fact many of the Imperials still see me as an untrustworthy outsider, means there is a good chance I have been fed false information in hopes of catching me leaking secure information. I must consider my options with the utmost caution.”

“What if I agreed to go to the Chiss?”

Thrawn quirked an eyebrow curiously. Cygni wanted to take it back the moment he said it, but it was the best thing he could offer.

“You would abandon your fight against the Empire to halt this one project?”

“I’m not saying I like the idea, but this thing is no good for anyone. Technology like this shouldn’t exist. So when I say “stop this project”, I mean everything related to it needs to be destroyed. There can’t even be records of it left. If anything remains, they’ll find a way to make more of them. But yes, if you help me bring an end to this thing, I’ll go help your people.”

“This offer speaks a great deal of the severity of your concern.”

“I mean for it to.”

Thrawn nodded slowly, tapping his fingers together and frowning deeply. “I need more time to assess the situation.”

“I’m sure you understand time is a luxury in this scenario.”

“Yes. But I will not enter into such an agreement without first thoroughly assessing everything. Allow me some time to ensure it is the correct course of action. I am due to return to Lothal in a few week’s time; I will notify you of my answer by then.”

Cygni nodded, “That’s fair.”

He tried to wrap his mind around the idea: Thrawn might actually say yes. They might work as a team rather than against each other. If Thrawn was on his side, this horrific project would undoubtedly see its end. It was almost too much to fathom, too easy of a win. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, pressing his back against the headboard and trying to quell the excited thoughts of an easy victory buzzing through his mind. Next to him, Thrawn began inspecting the hand again, testing how far back each of the fingers could be pulled while the palm rested against the mattress. It wasn’t the most pleasant draw back to the present.

Earlier, as they made their way to the bedroom, he had calmly reassured Cygni they weren’t all that different, anatomically. The comment caught him off guard; Thrawn was apparently highly aware of and concerned with their differences, much more than Cygni was. The few differences they did have, Thrawn took a near-obsessive fascination with. He kept his fingers and nose buried in Cygni’s facial hair the entire time they were close. Chiss, Thrawn informed him, couldn’t grow facial hair. He didn’t mind it -- in fact, he enjoyed the closeness and found Thrawn’s fascination amusing. But his ardent curiosity about the cybernetic arm… that wasn’t quite as exciting for Cygni.

“You do not like your arm, do you? You avoided using it,” he said.

Cygni withdrew the hand, “Why would I touch you with that when I can use my real hand?”

“You could have used both.”

He looked at the fingers, spreading them slowly. “It’s strange, I can see it move at my command. I can feel the things it touches. But it still doesn’t seem… real, I guess.”

“You have not accepted it as your own arm yet.”

Cygni sighed and brought the cybernetic fingers to the side of Thrawn’s face, gently running the fingertips along his cheekbone. He could feel the blunt pressure indicating contact with something. But he couldn’t feel that Thrawn’s skin was smooth, or that it was cool. And something about the visual aspect — metal against his blue skin — was discomforting. Depersonalizing.

He pulled it away and stood from the bed, “I should probably go.”

Thrawn made no reaction to the somewhat sudden departure. “How am I to contact you once I have better assessed the situation with this project?”

Cygni shrugged, teasing, “You’ll find a way. I’ve left you all the information you need to figure out how to see me again. You just need to piece it together.”

“Is this really an appropriate situation for games?”

“If you can’t figure it out I’m not sure I want to work with you on this mission.”

He gave his indignant squint again, keeping a close watch on Cygni as he dressed. Cygni took his time finding his clothes, mostly because he enjoyed the befuddled expression on Thrawn’s face.

Somehow, his shirt had ended up under the bed. Thrawn’s uniform tunic was lying next to it, and he was overcome with an impulsive need to take the rank plaque from it. Not that petty thievery had ever been his style, but a Grand Admiral rank plaque _did_ seem like the ultimate souvenir. Thrawn probably had a few spares anyway.

When he finished dressing, Thrawn stood from the bed and walked to him. He would never have guessed the man’s ego extended into vanity, but the way he walked toward him, bare bodied and all too confident, reeked of arrogance. At the very least, he was well aware Cygni enjoyed the view.

He brought his eyes to Thrawn’s. “You look _much_ better without that kriffing uniform. You should really consider abandoning it.”

His lips twitched at the compliment. “I’m rather fond of costumes. Perhaps you should simply view it as that.” He brushed Cygni’s hair back, “If you were to visit once more prior to my return to Lothal, I could give you my answer to your proposal directly.”

Good. He caught on as quickly as he hoped he would. “A few weeks, you said? I can be here.”

He continued to pet Cygni’s wild hair like he was trying to neaten it. “Our potential alliance intrigues me.”

“Does it? I was just thinking it might be incredibly boring.”

Thrawn’s lips stretched to a smile as twisted as the sentiment, “Yes, there is truth in that. We may need to ensure it remains stimulating by other means.”

Cygni froze. First the chairs, then the post-sex nap, and then he ends the evening with a suggestive comment like that…

Thrawn wore a proud smirk that Cygni really, really needed to touch. He reached up to his face, this time with his real hand, and ran his thumb over his cool lips, and paused, resting his hand against the side of his face. His skin was smooth, but not perfectly so -- there were fine wrinkles radiating from the corners of his eyes, a sharp ridge near his temple that arched up sharply over his forehead and came to an end near the bridge of his nose. He leaned forward and kissed him because he needed to taste him too. Crisp and fresh and a little too clean as compared to a human.

This was good. It was complex, and weird, and most importantly, it was real.

**Author's Note:**

> tl;dr Cygni gets cock blocked by Pryce and space whales.


End file.
